


Salty

by CrashDevil (cjdevlin19)



Series: Salt and Burn Series [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26832196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjdevlin19/pseuds/CrashDevil
Summary: A sequel to GhostIt's been weeks since Y/n left him and Dean isn't taking it well.
Relationships: Past Dean Winchester/Reader
Series: Salt and Burn Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045119
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Salty

**Story Warnings** : angst, drinking, breakups, Dean calling Y/n a bitch, drunk texting,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean tapped his fingers against the tabletop next to the almost-empty bottle of bourbon. His head was swimming in booze and he just couldn’t wait for the sweet release of the blackout he felt approaching.

This was Y/n’s fault.

She did this to him. She fucking left him. All he wanted was to give a bit of distance to push down the feelings she was giving him and she just...broke it off.

‘Salt and burn’, she said. Salt and burn...like he was a monster, like he was a spirit, like he was...something she needed to kill.

“Well, congratulations, you bitch. You did it,” he muttered, swiping the bottle off the table and twisting the cap off. He pushed the bottle to his lips and took another drag off of it. “Just wouldn’t give me...just wanted space and you...fuckin’ hate you.” He tossed to bottle across the room and sighed as it hit the sawed-off shotgun on the wall and knocked it to the bed.

“Stupid...fuckin’...this is...fuck her.”

He pulled out his cell phone and flipped through the gallery of pictures. Him and Sam, him and Charlie, him and Bobby from years ago. Y/n. Y/n asleep in the shotgun seat of the impala. Y/n laughing at something Sam said in a bar. Y/n looking like a damn dream the morning after their first time together.

His lips pulled down into a sneer as he looked at his phone screen. She just...fucking...broke him...and he was going to tell her about it.

**> >You bitch**

**> >You don’t even fuxking kbow how miserable you make me**

**> >You just fucked grabbed my heart snd riped it out**

**> >You are so frustrating**

**> >You didt even give me a fucking chance to explain**

**> >You just got mad and left**

Dean sighed and leaned his head back against the wall behind him.

**> >You just left. Salt and birn like im a ghost im not a ghost. I just was trying to make shit better and you fucking couldnt see how i was right**

**> >Its better for me and you to be less but i still wanted us to br something**

**> >Your supposed to be my something**

**> >You just left**

He licked his lips and ran his hands through his hair before picking the phone back up. He was so pissed off when he picked up the phone the first time. Now, he was destroyed.

**> >I didt mean to be a ghost i just didnt want tou to get hurt or hurt me**

**> >Shoulda known youd be the one to hurt me. Since the moment i saw you i been feeling things i didnt wanna feel like that first kiss? I still have dreams of the first time you pulld me into you and kissed me and the first tim i woke up with you in bed next to me and the first time you let yourslef cry around me you were always so awesome and i didn’t mean to hurt you and i didnt mean to hurt me and i miss you**

He wiped at his eyes and sniffled, shaking his head at himself.

**> >I hate that i hurt you**

**> >I hate that i love you**

“Okay, dumbass, stop talking and hit the sack,” he muttered, setting the phone down and stumbling to the bed, pushing the shotgun over the side of the bed and settling into his pillow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His head was pounding, his stomach twisted in a knot of acid and digesting booze. He ran his hand down his face and started to sit up. “Fuck. I’m...gotta stop drinkin’ so much.”

He leaned over to grab his shotgun from the floor and set it back on the wall before sliding off the bed and swaying a little as he walked toward the table. He sighed as he slid his finger across the screen. A text chain to Y/n greeted him. He groaned as he read back his drunken words. He barely remembered texting her, let alone texting her those words. “Why would I even say that?”

He sighed and tapped his fingers against the back of the phone. All that shit he talked, called her a ‘bitch’, said the L word...fuck. How was he supposed to fix this shit now? He’d just have to call and say ‘sorry’ and then delete her number so that he couldn’t ever drunk text her again.

He hit ‘call’ and put the phone to his ear. A series of high-pitched tones greeted him before “ _The number you have dialed is no longer in service._ ”

“What?” he whispered.

He called again and got the same message. Not voicemail, just...no service. Was there a chance she didn’t get those embarrassing texts? Or maybe she got them and then she decided to cancel her service so that he couldn’t message her anymore.

Maybe she just decided to ghost the man who ghosted her.


End file.
